Power comes at a cost—
but for him, someone else always pays it.
"…Is it over?"
White Zetsu sounded puzzled.
"It seems even a summon of that level isn't particularly difficult for Kamizuki Gen," Black Zetsu said in a low voice. "After all, his true strength is no weaker than Pain's."
Then his tone sharpened.
"You saw it just now, didn't you? That Lightning Release—that's Kakuzu's technique."
"He taught him recently…" White Zetsu replied.
"I remember that," Black Zetsu said, frowning. "But when did Sasori ever teach him puppet techniques?"
He fell silent.
White Zetsu thought for a moment, then said,
"Maybe… he didn't learn it from Sasori at all."
"…."
Black Zetsu said nothing.
For a brief moment—
even he felt that this person…
wasn't human.
Overwhelming strength.
An absurd rate of learning.
Then suddenly—
Black Zetsu's pupils shrank.
"Run. He's noticed us!"
Even from a thousand meters away—
he could feel it.
Those crimson eyes.
Cold. Watching.
"That's the Mangekyō Sharingan!!"
White Zetsu sucked in a sharp breath.
"…I think we've found the one who stole the remaining Sharingan on the night of the massacre," Black Zetsu said coldly.
Without hesitation—
Zetsu sank into the ground, activating the Mayfly Technique and fleeing at full speed.
"Heh… already running?"
Gen chuckled softly.
"They're quick."
He had already withdrawn from the mental world.
With the enhanced vision of both Mangekyō and three-tomoe Sharingan—
he had long since noticed the two spectators lurking in the distance.
"ROOOAR—"
The mutated salamander let out a low growl.
After facing the Mangekyō—
it no longer wanted to fight.
It only wanted to leave.
"I know. You want out too."
Standing atop its head, Gen walked calmly to the tip of its snout—
then leapt forward.
Whoosh—
his body dissolved into countless sheets of paper.
Dance of the Shikigami.
They spiraled through the air like a storm of white petals before reforming on the ground.
If Zetsu had seen that—
Gen could already imagine their expressions.
He landed steadily.
Then walked toward the half-devoured corpse beneath the beast's foot.
The earlier stomp had created a massive crater—
and the carcass lay within it.
It wasn't that Gen didn't want the mutated salamander's liver oil—
but its hide was far too tough.
To break that armor—
he'd need Susanoo.
In a flash—
he appeared above the corpse.
From his pouch, he pulled out a sealing scroll, a blade, and a container.
Then—
he began the dissection.
To resist the poison—
he wore the anti-toxin suit prepared by Orochimaru.
Combined with Hanzo's gas mask—
handling a normal salamander's toxins was no issue.
Fifteen minutes later—
Gen withdrew his blade.
In his hand—
a vial of golden liver oil.
Fortunately—
the mutated salamander hadn't fully cooked its meal.
Otherwise, he'd have to summon again.
"Done."
He sealed the oil into a scroll.
Removed the protective suit.
Discarded the mask.
Changed into a clean Akatsuki cloak.
"Head back."
He glanced at the towering beast.
"ROOOAR—"
It remained still.
Waiting.
Waiting for release.
"Next time there's a fight, I'll call you again."
Gen formed hand seals.
Reverse Summoning Jutsu.
BOOM—
Smoke billowed.
The colossal creature vanished.
Silence returned.
Only the crater remained.
"…Being able to see again."
Gen inhaled deeply.
Lifted his head toward the crescent moon.
"It really is nice."
Then—
he flickered away.
Leaping through trees, vanishing into the valley.
For ordinary people—
transplanting Sharingan without Uchiha blood came with a cost.
They couldn't be turned off.
And they constantly drained chakra.
But for Gen—
it didn't matter.
The Uchiha were gone.
And Itachi—
already knew.
This had always been part of the plan.
As for the chakra drain?
Let it drain.
Passive cost—
split between Orochimaru and Itachi.
Active use—
split too.
After all—
they were comrades from Konoha.
Gen landed on a treetop.
Pulled out a pair of frameless round sunglasses.
Gojo-style.
He slipped them on—
hiding those ever-burning crimson eyes.
…
Amegakure.
Statue Tower.
At the entrance—
"Haah… haah…"
Itachi staggered forward.
Face pale.
Eyes sunken.
Breathing ragged.
Like someone who hadn't slept in days.
Moments ago—
while training—
his strength had vanished.
Drained instantly.
He collapsed.
Half an hour later—
he woke up.
Dragged himself to buy soldier pills.
And now—
he had returned.
"…Itachi?"
Orochimaru descended the stairs.
A smirk spread across his lips.
"Take care of your health, Itachi-kun. Training is one thing—but at your age, you shouldn't ruin your body."
His eyes gleamed.
Greedy.
Hungry.
Then—
he suppressed it.
This was Pain's territory.
He wouldn't act here.
But outside?
Different story.
"Thank you for your concern."
Itachi replied coldly—
walking past him.
Orochimaru sighed.
"Young people these days… none of them take care of themselves. Such a perfect body—wasted."
He stepped outside—
then froze.
His eyes widened.
"…Damn it. Not again."
That same feeling.
His strength.
His vitality—
draining away.
Instantly.
He leaned against the wall.
A snake slipped from his sleeve—
spitting out a bottle of soldier pills.
He grabbed it.
Swallowed them rapidly.
Inside the corridor—
Itachi leaned against the railing.
Doing the exact same thing.
Both of them—
desperately chewing pills.
High above—
Pain watched silently.
Behind him—
Nagato hesitated.
Then thought quietly—
So…
the weakest one in Akatsuki…
wasn't him after all.
◇ BONUS & SUPPORT ◇
◇ 1 bonus chapter for every 10 reviews — drop a comment!
◇ 1 bonus chapter for every 100 Power Stones.
◇ Read chapters ahead on Patreon → patreon.com/c/MythArcStudio